


Ferreus Rememdium

by marguerite_26



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Embarrassment, Humor, M/M, Medical Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-23
Updated: 2012-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-02 10:01:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marguerite_26/pseuds/marguerite_26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco swallows his pride and visits a specialist for his very intimate problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ferreus Rememdium

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vaysh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaysh/gifts).



> Thank you to my betas: [](http://faithwood.livejournal.com/profile)[**faithwood**](http://faithwood.livejournal.com/), [](http://libby-drew.livejournal.com/profile)[**libby_drew**](http://libby-drew.livejournal.com/), [](http://sesheta-66.livejournal.com/profile)[**sesheta_66**](http://sesheta-66.livejournal.com/) and to [](http://potteresque-ire.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://potteresque-ire.livejournal.com/)**potteresque_ire** for checking my medical jargon.
> 
> originally posted Feb 14, 2010

Draco paced the room, examining again the dull yellow walls, the white cabinet and the piles of _Quidditch Weekly_ on the small desk. The minimal floor space allowed for only six steps before a return trip. And it was too hot; he pulled at his collar. He'd been waiting for _eleven minutes_ , a cruelty that led to him thinking about how he was going to answer the questions that were surely going to be asked.

He scrubbed his face in his hands. He could just walk right back out. The receptionist likely saw that often enough to not raise an eyebrow.

The door opened before he'd worked up the courage to flee. The healer stepped into the room. What appeared to be Draco's medical file was open, the healer's nose buried in the sordid details of Draco's bits. Draco's stomach plummeted even before the reason registered with his conscious mind. The healer wore nondescript white lab coat, was tall and thin with pitch black hair. It wasn't until green eyes looked up at him that he understood what his instinct was telling him.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Good afternoon, Malfoy." Potter smiled, a pleasant sort of blank smile that spoke of a memory wipe or years of training. "Won't you have a seat?"

"My appointment said Healer Batlock."

Potter sat and turned a few more pages, reading and reading all those _things_ that the other healers wrote about Draco that Potter had no business knowing. Without looking up, Potter said, "Yes, it's his clinic. A group of healers operate through here. I specialise in the particular area that is giving you trouble. Have a seat and we'll talk through what seems to be the issue."

He spoke like he'd said this all a million times over. Like he fully expected Draco to stay and continue his appointment. With Potter as his healer.

"I can't do this." Draco moved to the door.

Potter closed the file as if that was all he'd needed to hear. "Suit yourself. But if you go back to St Mungo's, they'll just send you back here. Or you could go to the Continent, but the waiting lists there are atrocious."

Draco's hand stilled on the doorknob. He thought about living with it. It wasn't so bad, except that it was, really. It was bad enough that he'd actually ignored a Floo-call from Matteo Rocco, and that was as painful as a jabbing yourself in the thigh with a fork. "Fine. Just be professional about this, Potter."

Potter had the nerve to roll his eyes. "I am a professional, Malfoy. It's my _job_. I've been a Healer for seven years, a specialist in this field for three. I assure you nothing you have to say or show me will be any different than the hundreds of other men who have sat in that chair."

Right. He could do this. Because it hurt, dammit, and that just wasn't right. Draco sat; the chair was stiff and unforgiving. He fidgeted while Potter pulled out a notepad and quill and only stopped when Potter gave him full eye contact. The look was flat and mildly interested, an expression he'd seen on dozens of healers before today.

Draco cleared his throat – he must be coming down with something; it kept thickening on him just as he tried to speak. "I – it hurts when…" Draco partly covered his mouth with his hand and mumbled the rest.

"It hurts when what?" Potter asked, lacking any trace of annoyance.

Draco bit the inside of his cheek and thought of Matteo's gorgeous arse on the dance floor with Blaise, rather than him. "When I _come_. It hurts when I come."

"Before, during, or after ejaculation?" Potter replied, without missing a beat.

"Oh. I - I don't know." Draco dug around in his memories – he'd been too shocked and panicked at such a sensation at such a moment to remember when it began.

Potter took notes, the quill flying over the parchment in an indecipherable mess.

His next question, "Has a sample been taken?" stumbled over Draco's reply to the previous, "During, I think."

Draco blinked. "A sample of what?"

Potter made a humming noise and scribbled some more. "But you aren't sure if it's during? Next time try to make note of it. It could be important. A sample of your ejaculate."

 _Ejaculate_. Potter's smooth professional voice made it sound like the dirtiest word Draco had ever heard. And Draco was really not having that thought. In fact, his mind had gone completely empty. "No. No sample," he managed to say.

Draco sat silent while Potter scribbled some more and referred back to the medical file he'd carried into the room. His mind wandered along the natural path of cocks and samples and testing and such things that were entirely inappropriately arousing. So much so that he missed that Potter was talking to him again. "Pardon?'

"I asked, how long?"

Draco felt a burst of heat to his face. He knew, obviously. Who hadn't pulled closed the bed curtains and shut out the dormmates just to check if he'd grown a millimetre overnight? But admitting that he knew that off-hand would be too telling. He was thirty years old. He could pretend that such things no longer mattered. But then, would Potter have to measure him? The answer to this question was getting far too complicated. He looked up to find Potter watching him with a ghost of a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

"How long has it been that you have felt pain during ejaculation?"

A nervous chuckle bubbled up in Draco's throat. "A few months. Since March, maybe."

"And it's every time you ejaculate? Getting worse or better?"

"Yes. Worse."

"Any pain when you urinate? Have a bowel movement?"

"No." Draco felt like he was being interrogated under Veritaserum from the way the honest answers were spilling from him, almost like they were being said by someone else. If he actually had to think about these questions and answers, it might be the end of him.

"Your urine's been tested so we know it's not a simple urinary tract infection. Have you noticed any lumps, sensitive areas?"

His leg was jumping and he wiped his sweaty palms down his thigh to his knee to calm it. "No."

"Does it make any difference if you ejaculate with hand stimulation or if it is during vaginal or anal intercourse?"

Draco stilled. It wasn't a simple yes or no question; his mind balked. If there were ever a time for Draco's uncontrolled magic to Vanish the floor beneath his feet and allow the Earth to swallow him into its depths, now would be it. Draco waited. No such luck. Potter politely scribbled, with his eyes on his notebook; the berk was giving him time to answer.

After he took too long, Potter offered, "Or have you not noticed any difference? Often times masturbation sessions can be less intense, which might mean less pain, but on the other hand people tend to be more self-aware when they're alone. It's hard to tell if it's the lack of distraction or the source of the stimulation that causes the difference. Obviously, the tight clutch of the anal canal around the penis can –"

"No difference!" Draco blurted out because he honestly didn't know and the idea of discussing the pros and cons of masturbation sessions versus the effects of the anal canal around the penis was right up on his things-to-do list beside a self-inflicted Slug-vomiting Charm.

Potter startled at the outburst, then nodded. "All right, that's enough for now." He opened a cabinet and dug around until he found a stubby, wide-mouthed jar with a black cap. He scrawled _Draco Malfoy_ on the label and, underneath, the time and date. He then stood and handed the jar to Draco.

Draco felt the cold glass in his palm and a lump of dread in his belly. "And this is for?"

"The sample." Potter opened the top drawer of the small desk and grabbed a pile of magazines. He dropped them on the examination table so they fanned to display what had to be any teenage boy's wet dream. "We'll need it fresh. Just open the door when you are done and I'll be by in a bit."

Just as he was walking out, Potter turned and tossed a tiny foil packet on top of the magazines. The lettering read: Easyslide Healer's Formula Lubrication. Appropriate for use in all nonsterile medical procedures. The door shut behind Potter with a soft click.

Draco didn't think he could do it. Some things were not possible. He would go out the door and explain to Potter that there would be no 'fresh sample' today. Draco frowned. Potter would then add 'cannot get it up' to Draco's bloody medical file. No matter what Pansy told him, he still believed it was possible to die of mortification.

Maybe the wait lists on the Continent weren't that bad. But even if he found a new healer, Potter would still think he couldn't get it up. And he could. He very nearly did when Potter started saying 'ejaculate' and 'masturbation session' and – Merlin – 'tight clutch of the anal canal'. The pervert.

Was Potter standing outside the door listening? Probably. With his perfect professional façade tossed away, his ear pressed against the door, and his hand down his trousers, waiting for all the deviant sounds Draco was going to make filling that jar.

And just like that Draco's cock was pressing eagerly against his zipper.

Not exactly impossible, then.

Draco palmed his dick and gave it a squeeze. Definitely nothing wrong there. He grinned and looked back at the closed door. There would be no 'can't get it up' in _his_ file. He popped the button of his trousers and felt a surge of pride at the significant tent to his pants. Too bad Potter hadn't had to measure him – nothing to humiliate him there.

Draco liked to wank naked, in a bed or in a soft chair, maybe with a snifter of brandy, a warm fire and his favourite issue of _Wayward Wizards_. He looked around the examination room. It was a far cry from the luxuries of home, but his eyes fell to the neglected pile of porn in front of him.

His left hand stroked the bulge in his pants, a lazy up then down rhythm that made the soft silk tease his cock. His right hand flipped through the stack for something tempting. There were plenty of girls – tits, tits, tits – pert tits on petite Asian women, and buxom blondes that looked horribly disproportioned and everything in between. Draco tossed them aside.

Ah. _Finally_.

His cock twitched at the first cover with a bloke on it. He was gorgeous. Big blue eyes and shaggy dark hair and plump lips that were made for cock sucking.

With another glance behind him to check that the door was still closed tight, he tugged his trousers and pants down his thighs. He rolled his balls with one hand, his fingers dancing as his testes rose and fell. He opened the magazine. Front Cover boy proved Draco right: page two showcased those perfect lips stretched around a thick cock. The photo had him kneeling and opening wide while the man in front of him clutched that mess of hair and fucked his mouth at a deliciously slow pace.

"Oh." Draco gave his cock a firm tug. He might have to take this one home. He opened the packet of lubricant and slicked his cock. He shook his head to chase away thoughts of referring to wanking as a nonsterile medical procedure. He watched the same photo for a while, pumping in time with the blowjob. He could feel the sweat pool at his lower back. It wouldn't take long at all before he was filling that jar.

The jar. Draco's hand stilled. He'd forgotten. He moved it closer and twisted off the lid. He couldn't help but imagine Potter's smirk had Draco wanked successfully, only to forget to come in the jar. Potter would just think that was hilarious. He'd probably make Draco wank again. Supervised. Draco tugged his balls, and moaned; his eyes darted to the door. Potter would offer to hold the jar, of course. Make sure not a drop of Draco's precious ejaculate was missed. He might need to hold Draco's dick steady, too. Just to be sure. Draco shut his eyes, forgoing the magazine. He could practically feel it: the ghost of Potter's fingers around his cock while he rattled on about correct sampling methods and volume requirements.

His balls tightened, and his eyes snapped open. He fumbled for the jar. He pumped two, three more times and the pain began. His balls ached deep inside and an excruciating burn seemed to chase his spunk out of his cock, scorching a path from his balls through the inside of his dick. With a strangled cry, the orgasm ripped through him. He watched through the hyperawareness of both pleasure and pain as his come squirted into the jar. He half-expected it to smoke like a glass of Firewhiskey. But it looked like come, opaque and thick and really not very much of it considering the intense pain it caused arriving.

Once he caught his breath, Draco capped the jar and placed it on Potter's desk. He cleaned himself up and Vanished the empty packet. He rearranged the magazines so that they looked like they hadn't been touched. Then thought better of it and placed one of the tit-mags on the top, angled towards him. Then realised he didn't want Potter thinking he was straight and reshuffled the stack. A burly man with a dog-collar winked up at him from the top of the pile.

There was no hope for it. He dropped the whole lot back in the drawer they had come from, checked his zipper was up and opened the door.

Potter entered soon after. Not quickly like he'd been standing on the other side of the door, but certainly not far off. Or that was what Draco told himself, at least. The idea that Potter was elsewhere, maybe with another patient, made the air in Draco's lungs feel stale.

Potter said nothing, but walked to the side table and lifted the jar. It had to be still warm. The thought sent another rush of heat to Draco's face.

Potter held it up to the light and shook it a bit. Draco was not twelve and would not laugh out how seriously Potter was looking at his come. His _ejaculate_ , he corrected himself and had to bite his lip to keep his focus.

After scratching more notes into his book, Potter unscrewed the cap and drew his wand. Lights of several colours stole out of the tip and poured into the jar.

Potter watched the colours dance about, telling him something that Draco couldn't hope to understand. Potter leant forward, his nose awfully close to the glass; he must have been able to smell it. Did spunk in a jar smell like sex, Draco wondered, if it wasn't mixed with sweat-soaked sheets and bodies? Did each man's come smell differently? Was it pleasant? Erotic?

"An unusually high content of iron," Potter said to himself. "Hmmm, that could certainly make the travel through the urethra uncomfortable."

"During."

Potter tore his eyes from Draco's sample. "Pardon?"

"You asked when… it's during."

"Oh!" Potter waved his wand at the jar and whispered a Stasis Charm, then pulled his book onto his lap. The quill hovered over the parchment. "Can you describe it? It would be very helpful in pinpointing the problem."

Potter looked so interested, Draco felt compelled to give him an honest answer. He closed his eyes to think on it. "I felt the stirring in my balls and with it, the burn began. But the orgasm had already started so the pain was mixed with the pleasure making it … confusing. And then I could feel the come like fire dragging through the inside of my cock. Dick. Penis."

He opened his eyes and Potter was staring at him, and for the first time he looked like _Potter_. Potter's eyes darted down to check his notes; the skin at his collar was red in a way that Draco was sure it hadn't been previously.

Heat simmered low in Draco's gut at the thought.

"I – I'll need to examine you." Potter stood, fumbling for a sheet. "Strip below the waist, lie on the examination table and cover yourself with this." He closed the door behind him before Draco could blink.

Draco stripped, oddly more confident now that Potter was less polished. But that evaporated as his naked arse hit the crisp white sheet of the examination bed. Potter would be examining him. His mind attempted to wander down that train of thought but seized up at the shear incredulity of it. He'd bolt if he weren't completely numb, body and mind. On the ceiling above the table was a picture of a misty mountain with the word _Determination_ written beneath, in lettering that matched the grey blue of the mist. It was heavy-handedly peaceful.

When Potter came back, he didn’t meet Draco's eye. His expression was blank like he'd taken a minute to do a numbing charm to his face. He cleared his throat as he stretched thin healer's gloves over his hands. They made a foreboding snap when pulled taut.

Draco stared back at the mountain and felt the examination table shift as Potter stood beside it, leaning slightly to remove the sheet. _Determination_ be damned, it was utter terror that kept Draco frozen in place and not dashing out the door, bare arsed.

Potter talked him through it, which Draco understood was a simple method healers used to calm patients, and while Draco wanted to scream, "Just shut up and let me pretend this isn't happening," Potter's words made his panic abate somewhat, and his chest warmed in gratitude.

"Tell me if any of this hurts." Potter started at his abdomen, gently applying pressure with his fingertips below Draco's navel and across to his hips and repeated again on the other side. "Everything appears normal," he said as he worked his way down.

His fingers grazed something, and a sharp sting shot through Draco's pelvis. Potter's fingers froze at the hiss that escaped.

"That hurt?"

"A little."

"Hmm," was all Potter said and moved on, lower.

The trace of the pain lingered, morphing into something… else, an _awareness_ of sensitivity that wasn't pain at all. By the time Potter's gloved fingers had moved to his balls, Draco's breathing had quickened, and it had nothing to do with humiliation. His legs fell open as Potter reached down to fondle – _examine_ – his testes.

"No other pain?" Potter's voice was rough.

Draco wanted to look to see if Potter's expression was still blank, but he knew his own cheeks were a tell-tale pink, and he wouldn't risk Potter suspecting his arousal at a time when no man had any right to be aroused. "None."

Potter shifted his weight and rocked the examination table; Draco's cock twitched at the unexpected jostle. He prayed Potter wouldn't notice.

"Does it hurt when you start to get an erection?"

Draco closed his eyes and knew his cock was thickening as Potter watched it with the cool distance of a man who had seen more cocks than a whore. "No, no pain."

"I'm concerned about the sensitivity of your lower abdomen. It could be an infection of the seminal vesicles. I'd like to perform a diagnostic charm that travels through the urethra." Potter paused. "It isn't supposed to be painful, but I understand it to be an unusual sensation. Patients' reactions to it vary greatly."

Draco blinked up at the mountains again. An infection didn't sound good, neither did anything travelling _into_ his cock. He thought of the time he'd stumbled onto a photo depicting a small glass rod being inserted into the slit of a cock. He shuddered.

Potter's hand rested on his thigh, warm and strong. "It's entirely up to you. There are other methods for determining an infection, but none as immediate as this. I understand completely if you refuse."

"I want to know." And that was all it really came down to. He was here for answers and to, hopefully, walk out with a simple potion that would cure him. "Go ahead."

He raised his head to look at Potter, and Potter nodded back. He lifted himself up on his elbows so that he could see the procedure, both to soothe his nerves and out of morbid curiosity.

Potter lowered his wand. The tip grazed the slit of Draco's fattening cock and it twitched at the whisper of contact. Potter jerked his hand back.

"Sorry." Potter chuckled and it sounded nervous, which made no sense at all to Draco, given who was doing what to whom at the moment. "I'll just need to –" Potter's index finger and thumb steadied Draco's cock, a gentle brush of pressure just below the crown. Draco's breath hitched.

With a slight tremor to his hand, Potter repositioned his wand and muttered a complicated incantation. A silver shimmer of magic poured from the wand to Draco's dick, slipping silently into the slit.

Draco gasped, holding his breath, his entire body strung tight as bow. Potter's magic was alive, like raw power braided into a fine string, slithering its way down the _inside_ of Draco's cock. His body flared at the sensation. Potter's magic inside of him was more intimate than Draco could have expected. He had fucked and been fucked many times over the years but nothing had ever touched him like this. He dragged a deep breath into his lungs as the magic bored deeper into him.

His cock was hard and aching, straining against Potter's fingers. The gentle touch was torture. His hips thrust up, desperate for more friction, a tight grip, a flat palm – anything.

"Shh. You're doing fine." Potter let go of Draco's cock to pin his hip to the table and keep him still. "It's almost done. Do you want me to stop?"

Draco whimpered at the loss of even the tease of contact. Merlin, his cheeks were wet as tears of frustration spilled from his eyes. "Keep going," he ground out through clenched teeth. Dumbledore himself could have walked in right then and Draco wouldn't want to stop. It was excruciatingly perfect; his skin tingled with his rising orgasm. It would be brutal, unforgiving in its intensity. He could feel it building, feel it drawing Potter's magic in, just to push it back out with the inevitable explosion.

Potter's thumb traced circles over his hip bone. "Not much longer." Their eyes met, and Draco saw a flash of heat. His lips parted in surprise. Potter's wand trembled, his knuckles white around the handle.

The trail of shimmering magic still poured into Draco's body. He could feel the tingle of magic inside his abdomen, creeping deeper and deeper inside of him.

"Nearly there." Potter gnawed his lip and stared only at the wand, as though afraid to make eye contact again.

An intense burst of pleasure exploded behind Draco's eyes. It was familiar and yet not. His prostate, his mind supplied. Only not the contact it usually received, but there was no mistaking that feeling. The magic of Potter's spell grazed his prostate a second time and the sensation overwhelmed him.

He writhed on the table with Potter making the futile effort of trying to keep him down one-handed.

"So close, Malfoy. Stay with me."

"Can't. Going to –"

"Not yet." Potter's nails dug into his hip just enough to make his orgasm stutter momentarily.

"Done," Potter shouted.

And Draco's body replied on cue. He screamed through the pain and ecstasy as his orgasm pushed against the magic filling him. He could feel it, feel the raw power of that magic being chased out. His release ripped through him again. He collapsed onto the table, wrung out, his limbs heavy, his shirt soaked through with sweat. He lay panting, eyes closed, too exhausted, too humiliated to open them. A tickle of magic on his groin told him Potter had cast a Cleaning Charm, then a sheet was pulled to cover him. He wanted to curl up and sleep for a week.

A small strip of parchment was placed at his side. He lifted it and read the name of a potion he didn't recognise.

"Take that once a day for three days. You have an infection of your seminal vesicles." Potter's voice was flat again, empty. Like the man who could look at Draco with such passion minutes before had never existed. Maybe he hadn't.

Draco stared at the paper while the reality of what had just happened fell into place. The high of the orgasm turned acidic in his veins.

"I understand it is painful, but ejaculating at least once a day for the next week will help flush out the infection." Potter scribbled notes as he spoke, like Binns rhyming off dates and death tolls while filling the chalk board.

"Right. I'll … do my best." Everything felt off; a twist in Draco's gut left him unsettled.

Potter eyes were downcast, staring but clearly not seeing the notebook in front of him. He shut it with a slap and moved towards the door.

Draco panicked at the sight, though he couldn't say why. "And if it doesn't go away?"

Potter spoke to the door, hand on the doorknob. "Send along an owl. I'll be happy to recommend another specialist."

An ember of fury, which had been sitting dormant since Potter's abrupt dismissal, sparked in Draco's chest. "I thought there was only you."

"Exceptions can be made."

The ember burst into a wildfire at the implication. Not only could Potter have sent him to someone else to begin with but, now, after what had just occurred, he was being tossed to a colleague to deal with. "Fuck you, Potter." He pushed aside the sheet and stood on shaky legs. Hopping on one foot, he fumbled to put on his pants. "At least I can get it up, you dickless shit." Not his best retort but, when mortified, Draco had limited wit, or so Pansy often reminded him.

"Malfoy."

"No, you arse. I don't want to hear it. You wanted to humiliate me? Congratulations."

Potter sighed. His head fell forward so that it knocked against the wood of the door. "Your body's reaction to the examination, and that spell in particular, was well within the range of a normal healthy male."

Draco looked at him then, really looked at him: his forehead pressed against the door, the hair at the back of his neck damp with sweat, a deep red blush creeping up from his collar. Potter shifted awkwardly in his trousers in a way that could only mean one thing.

"Oh." Draco gaped, numb; the realisation stunned him like a slap across the face.

"I can no longer be your healer. I'm sorry. Should you need a new healer, I will do what I can to ease the transition." Potter's voice wavered. What Draco had interpreted moments ago as flat, now resonated a thinly veiled frustration.

"I didn't –" Draco took a step forwards. When a glorious opportunity lands in the lap of a Malfoy, it is not thrown asunder. Who was Draco to break with such a noble tradition? "It's not a problem, you know, for me."

"It is for me." Potter rolled his head, still pressed against the door, to look back at Draco. "I've never had to drop a patient before. It feels dreadful."

Draco stood a little straighter. Then blushed at being proud of something that clearly horrified Potter. Still, he couldn't stop his smirk. "I doubt I'll need to come back. But, to be sure, you could help me fulfil the treatment my healer prescribed for this week."

Potter's brow furrowed as though his mind was running through all the ethical questions Draco's suggestion had raised. No good would come of that. It was time to turn on the charm.

Draco tilted his head and dragged his teeth across his bottom lip, leaving it red and swollen. "The healer's a berk, but he has this spell that –"

Potter's eyes widened and his laugh came out as a loud bark that echoed in the small room. "Oh my God, Malfoy! That spell is for medical purposes only!"

"And so are those little packets you carry around in your pocket. I can only imagine how many nonsterile procedures you've been practising at home. I'll bet your bedside table has a box full of them that you nicked from the supply cupboard." Potter flushed, and Draco added, "Maybe a few magazines, too?"

Potter pushed away from the door shaking his head and trying not to laugh. It was a losing battle.

"I expect you at my house at eight sharp, Healer Potter."

"This is a terrible idea, Malfoy."

Draco shrugged. It likely was, but a chance to shag Harry Potter? It would be worth the complete implosion their relationship was doomed to make. "I would hate to mess up my healer's orders and have to come back and be examined by a colleague of his."

Potter's expression darkened. "Eight o'clock, you said?" Potter asked through clenched teeth.

"Sharp." Draco cheered, a silent inward cheer that came out a triumphant grin. He patted Potter's cheek and straightened the white cotton lapel. Potter's neck was still a lovely shade of red.

Draco reached for the doorknob, and at the last moment turned and whispered in Potter's ear. "And do bring the coat, Potter."

~fin  


**Author's Note:**

> [original livejournal post](http://hp-kinkfest.livejournal.com/22509.html)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Ring of Fire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4925182) by [IvvyMoon (blue_jack)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_jack/pseuds/IvvyMoon)




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